


they said you'd never have no worth

by janie_tangerine



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: ASoIaF Kink Meme, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Hostage Situation, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-03
Updated: 2013-04-03
Packaged: 2017-12-07 09:12:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/746810
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/janie_tangerine/pseuds/janie_tangerine
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>where Theon's father rebels before Theon goes back to Pyke.</p>
            </blockquote>





	they said you'd never have no worth

**Author's Note:**

> written for the last round at the kink meme for the prompt _Balon Greyjoy begins his rebellion before Robb agrees to send Theon back to seek out the aid of his ships. To his horror, Robb's bannermen expect him to kill Theon to send a message to his father._ Yes, I couldn't resist it the moment I saw it. Nothing belongs to me, this never happened, the title is from Radical Face. Also I have no clue of why Jaime decided that he had to be a sort of prominent thing in this, but it happened.

“No. No, I’m not doing this,” he says out loud the moment he reads the letter.

Then he remembers that Theon is right beside him and he should hide it, but he’s too late. Theon has grabbed it already, reading it for himself, and Robb is left to stare at his grandfather’s solar, now filled with his bannermen.

“Your Grace, I’m afraid there are no other options.” (That was Roose Bolton.)

“He’s still a hostage.” (That was Rickard Karstark.)

“He can’t get away with rebelling again without consequences.” (That was Greatjon Umber.)

Everyone else is murmuring in agreement and Robb feels like the ground had just opened under his feet and swallowed him whole, and then he turns to look at Theon. He’s not looking at the piece of paper in his hands, rather at the ground, and then he turns towards Robb.

Robb has known him for ten years and he’s never seen him this close to crying, but he’s not letting himself do it.

“It’s all right, Stark,” he tries to joke, but it comes out strangled. “I’ve been waiting for this to happen for a long time. I just thought it would be your father, but – best get on with it, shouldn’t you?”

“I’m – I’m not – I need to ponder my options,” Robb replies feebly, but no one is too convinced by it and in the end he has to agree to put Theon in chains just to have another day to think about it.

“You didn’t have to,” Theon whispers to him before he leaves the room, “but thanks for trying nonetheless.”

Then he’s gone and Robb wants to scream out loud.

\--

He leaves orders not to be disturbed for the entire evening. He looks at the situation from every possible angle, but it’s no use. His mother looks sorry when she tells him that no, his father’s death didn’t change Theon’s status and no, even if he asks five different maesters they will all tell him the same. She doesn’t tell him _I told you not to get attached years ago_ , but Robb can hear it anyway.

When he walks out of the room and the castle wanting to get some fresh air and wishing he had Theon’s father in front of him so that he could cut his head instead, there isn’t one face he looks at that seems to understand why he’s in such distress.

He’s only a hostage, they seem to tell him. Why do you even care?

 _You don’t even know half of it_ , Robb wants to tell them, but what would even be the point? They haven’t spent ten years with Theon, they haven’t grown up with him at their side, they haven’t been the one person he told about his homeland, they haven’t shared a bed with him when it was winter and cold. Theon didn’t teach them to use a bow, either, and he doesn’t smile at any of them like he means it, and none of this is reason enough to spare his life. Robb knows that even too well.

He wishes he didn’t.

\--

“I see you don’t like to play this game anymore, do you?”

Robb curses Jaime Lannister for existing, for being awake and for his cell being on the way to the one where they’re keeping Theon.

“Fuck you,” Robb hisses, staring at him for a moment before going back on his way.

“And you’re still such a righteous little prick. Too bad, I was about to give you a bit of advice.”

“I don’t want advice from you.”

“Then I won’t give it. Your loss. Just keep in mind that choosing your affections over your realm usually means that you don’t get to keep your precious honor, but I’m sure you didn’t need me to tell you that, did you?”

Robb doesn’t dignify him with an answer and walks straight ahead.

\--

“Gods, that’s not what I told them,” Robb sighs as he looks at Theon’s chained wrists– he has as many chains as the fucking kingslayer. Robb had never ordered that.

“I could always escape, they have to take precautions” Theon tries to joke (failing again). He’s not looking at Robb and Robb wishes he would.

“No you wouldn’t. And even if you did, how far would you go?”

“Try telling your bannermen that.” Theon sighs, then he finally looks up at Robb – for a moment Robb feels surprised. He’s never seen Theon look that serious in his entire life.

“Robb,” he starts, obviously forcing himself to keep eye contact. “I told you. It’s fine. I’ve always known that it could happen. I knew it when I left. And I’ve known it until now. I – I supposed I hoped that my father would care enough not to do it again, but obviously he didn’t. I won’t hold it against you.”

“It’s _not_ fine!” Robb has to keep himself from shouting. “I don’t care what everyone else in this castle thinks of you, I don’t want to kill you and if you think that I can do it without regretting it for the rest of my life then you’re wrong. It’s not right. You didn’t ask for any of it, I can’t – I just can’t, all right?”

“I know that,” Theon replies quietly. “And that’s exactly why _you_ have to do it before Roose Bolton or someone else offers to do it in your place.”

Robb’s blood runs cold. “What?”

“If it has to be someone then – all right. Listen to me. I told you. I left home knowing that I could have died at any moment. I wasn’t expecting much of Winterfell, really. I’ve never forgotten that your father could and would have had my head if it came to that. Except when you were there.”

“Theon –”

“ _Robb_. I know you don’t want to do it. And that’s exactly the one reason why I’m fine with you doing it. I’m nothing to anyone else in here and I know that. I don’t hold it against you – it’s not your fault either.”

There’s nothing right about how this conversation is faring. Before Robb even has thought it out, he’s kneeling down in front of Theon, his face in between his hands, shaking his head and wishing he could just stop feeling like he has no choice in this.

“I can’t – it never was about us. I’m not – neither of us had anything to do with that war and now you have to die for it and I have to be the one doing it? For – there has to be a way out of this.”

“There isn’t one, Stark.” Now Theon sounds merely tired. “Maybe your mother was right.”

“What?”

“Do you think that I’ve never heard her tell you years ago that I wasn’t a ward and that you’d have been better off not getting attached? You had that conversation at least three times, and they were the only ones I heard.”

“I don’t regret it.”

Theon’s eyes go wide and Robb hopes that Grey Wind, who is currently outside the cell, will drive away anyone attempting to come close as he moves forward and kisses Theon before he can say anything. He doesn’t even know what to expect – but it surely isn’t for Theon to press back against him as a tiny moan leaves his throat. Robb brings his hands to Theon’s hair as he deepens the kiss, wishing that Theon could use his hands at least, and he doesn’t need to stop to say that he’s been wanting to do it for a while. From the way Theon’s kissing back maybe he knew that already.

When it’s over, he presses his forehead against Theon’s as he shakes his head slightly.

“I don’t regret it,” he says again. “And I am going to find a way out of this.”

“You can’t,” Theon replies, sounding as if he’s about to stop pretending he’s fine with this. Or as fine as he wants Robb to think. “But I meant it when I said that I’m fine if it’s you, Stark. I did. And – it’s good enough for me that you’re even trying. Just – if it comes to it, at least don’t send me back to him?”

“That was the worst quip I ever heard,” Robb replies quietly, wishing that things were different. “But I won’t. And if it comes to it, your father is going to be sorry he ever crossed me. But it won’t.”

“You can’t know that.”

Robb wishes he could stay longer, but he can’t. He doesn’t resist pressing his mouth to Theon’s again before standing up and leaving. When he gets out of the cell, Grey Wind is waiting for him – Robb thinks about it one moment, then nods towards the cell and moves away from the entrance. He glances back to see his wolf crouching next to Theon’s side and Theon looking down at him as if he wants to break down crying right this moment, and Robb walks away. He can tell the turnkey to close it again after his wolf leaves.

\--

He knows he shouldn’t and he doesn’t even understand how it’s a good idea, but he stops in front of Lannister’s cell again. Lannister looks up at him and at least he doesn’t seem too amused.

“See? I told you that it’s not easy. You Starks, always thinking that you can keep all your promises and all your vows without losing something in between and _judging_ whoever does different.”

“This has nothing to do with my father, Lannister.”

“Not exactly, but you’re his son if he ever had one. Even if something tells me you’re about to make him very unhappy, wherever he is.”

“I wouldn’t –”

“ _Your Grace_.” It comes out entirely mocking. “As much as I loathe that I’m about to say it, I know you will. Because I know the look on your face, and the last time my own face had it, I didn’t choose my duty. Now, the only question is whether you’re willing to appear weak and possibly risk your bannermen’s support to save a hostage they all hate. Who wasn’t deemed important enough by his own father, but that’s beside the point.”

“And do you regret not choosing your duty?” Robb wishes he knew how Lannister actually knows that much, but maybe he heard the turnkeys talking. Or his cousin isn’t merely discussing the weather when he visits.

Lannister laughs out loud as if Robb just asked the most stupid question in the history of stupid questions.

“Robb Stark, I won’t ever tell you out of everyone why I did it, but I can assure you that whatever you, your father, your mother and everyone else in this fucking realm thinks of it, killing Aerys Targaryen was the best decision I ever made. No, I don’t. I never will.”

Robb would like to say that he feels disgusted, but he’s beyond that.

He walks back to his tent and stays awake until his eyes can barely stay open and his head hurts, and as much as he despises Lannister he has to give it to him – he asked the one important question.

_Is he worth it?_

Robb is afraid he doesn’t have to think about it much to be sure of the answer.

\--

“Your Grace? It’s time.”

The Greatjon’s voice has never sounded as unwelcome.

“I’m coming,” Robb sighs as he grabs his sword. He looks down at it – it should have been his father’s, he thinks, and he has to force himself to kill the sob rising in his throat. At least his father’s sword was Valyrian steel – it’d have meant just one stroke, a quick and clean death. His own is a good sword but nowhere as good. As he walks out of the tent he imagines the blade meeting Theon’s neck once, twice, three times because it’s never going to be a clean cut, and he can almost feel blood hitting his face. He wants to vomit, he really does, but that would make him seem weak, wouldn’t it?

But it’s not the worst thing. The worst thing is that regardless of everything else he feels like he’s about to kill his own brother, the only one who’s here with him at that.

When Grey Wind moves at his side… well, if a wolf could look at you as if he was disappointed in you, that’d be the way he would. Robb keeps on walking, trying to convince himself that he has no other choice, that if he doesn’t do this he loses the war before it’s even started, that it’s the sensible thing and that it’s not as if he has to enjoy it. Except that it doesn’t matter if he doesn’t, does it?

When he finally gets to the yard, Theon is still in chains. He’s kneeling with two guards next to him, and most of his bannermen are there already. Robb feels sick as he moves to Theon’s side, he can feel bile raising in his throat and he has to will his fingers to stop shaking before even closing them around the hilt. Then Theon turns his head towards Robb and looks up at him – he looks resigned but somehow _ready_ for it as if he’s really been waiting for this all his life.

Robb stops dead in his tracks when the bloody idiot smiles at him.

“It’s all right, Stark,” he whispers. “Do it. It’s not your fault, is it?”

“Is there anything you wish to say before – before I do this?” Robb asks, trying to silence the part of him who’s telling him to just _stop_.

“Well. Nothing really. But while I thought that I might have died for you the moment you called the banners… let me tell you, Stark, that wasn’t the way I thought it’d go.”

Robb can feel impatient eyes staring at him, willing him to just _do_ this as if they don’t get that he’s not killing someone who only ever was a pawn in some game to him –

And then as he takes the sword out of its sheath he realizes what Theon has just said. He was forcing himself to put it as another fucking joke, but the meaning of it –

Robb’s sword clashes to the ground as everyone else starts whispering, but he doesn’t care. He doesn’t really care.

“What did you just say?” he asks as he pushes away one of the guards and kneels down in front of Theon.

“What did I just –”

“You _would_ die for – for my cause?” He was about to say _for me_ , but maybe it was not the best way to put it.

“I – yes,” Theon answers, obviously not having guessed that it was what Robb would ask.

“Your Grace –” Roose Bolton says, and Robb doesn’t even need to silence him – Grey Wind growls at Bolton and no one tries to interrupt again.

Robb had never asked it of Theon – he had a notion that bending the knee to him in his situation would have just created further problems. But now…

Well, everyone is going to hear him, but Robb can’t frankly bring himself to care.

“Bend the knee,” Robb hisses, and Theon’s eyes go wide.

“Robb, what –”

“Your father obviously can’t care less, can he?” He stands up again and looks at the other guard.

“Unchain him.”

“Your Grace –”

“Do it. You can put them back later if he doesn’t follow through.”

The whispers aren’t really just whispers anymore, but Robb doesn’t even hear them. Theon’s chains fall off a moment later and Robb winces when he sees that his wrists are bleeding and that there are dark bruises on them.

Theon gets on his feet unsteadily, then closes his eyes and falls down on both knees in front of him – the entire crowd has gone silent now.

“Your Grace –” he starts, his hands touching the hems of Robb’s cloak. “I – I would give you my sword. And myself, for what is worth, if you would be so kind to have me.”

Robb should probably pretend to think about it for appearances’ sake, but it’d be unnecessarily cruel – not to mention that no one would be fooled into thinking that it was Theon’s idea in the first place.

“Of course I would. You may stand.”

\--

He gives orders to bring Theon to his own room and he spends the next hour or so trying to reason with his bannermen, except that his great-uncle is the only person who seems to… well, at least not disagree with him on principle.

After the tenth time Roose Bolton tells him that it’s not a good idea and that they can’t afford weakness, Robb has had more than enough.

“I’m not going back on it,” he almost shouts. He surely speaks loudly enough that everyone suddenly stops talking. “He hasn’t asked for it. His father sure as the seven hells didn’t ask him for his opinion. He saved my brother’s life at one point, he’s been valuable during the war, and hasn’t my father died because according to the _king_ allowing him to take the black was a sign of weakness? Well, I’m not him and I won’t kill someone undeserving, and for something neither him nor I had part in. If it makes others think I’m weak I’ll prove them different on the battlefield. And this is the last I’ll hear of it.”

No one else tries to object and Robb stalks out of the room.

\--

When he goes back to his own room bringing some bandages with him, Theon is there. There was already a pitcher full of water, so he didn’t bother with it.

“Robb?” Theon asks when Robb sits down in front of him on the bed along with bandages and the pitcher. “What –”

“Give me your wrist,” Robb interrupts, trying not to sound as mad as he feels – not that he’s mad with Theon out of everyone.

Theon doesn’t question it and a moment later Robb is cleaning dried blood from his right wrist – thankfully it was all from scratches, but the skin underneath still looks too dark.

“I’m sorry about it all,” Robb says quietly as he wraps a piece of the bandages around it.

“Stark, you’re risking your damn war to save my life and you’re excusing yourself for a couple of bruises?”

“It wasn’t supposed to go like this at all,” Robb replies before moving to the left wrist. The more blood he cleans the more disgusted he feels.

“No doubt,” Theon snorts. “Still. You shouldn’t have.” He’s speaking a lot more quietly than he used to.

“Maybe,” Robb agrees. “But I don’t really care.”

“You have two wars to fight, you just – well, showed weakness – and you don’t care?”

“You’re worth it.”

It was the first conclusion he had reached, actually. But then he had tried to tell himself that even if it was the case, it still was his duty to go through with the fucking beheading. That obviously didn’t go as well as it should have, did it.

He raises his eyes from Theon’s wrist when it jerks back the moment he speaks. Theon is looking at him as if he can’t fathom what Robb just said, as if he had expected everything but that, never mind that Robb had fucking kissed him before – if it wasn’t clear enough from everything else.

“Stark, I can’t be worth losing one war when my own father didn’t think that I was worth not starting one.”

“Not to me.”

He doesn’t know what he had expected, but not for Theon to grab his hand with his left wrist and tangle their fingers together, and his grip is a lot stronger than Robb thought it’d be. His wrists must be hurting.

“Do you want me to do it again?”

“Sorry, do I want you to do what again?”

“Stark, I bent that knee to you because you just gave me a way out to save myself and because it implied nothing I wouldn’t have done already, but if you want me to do that properly you only have to ask.”

“No,” Robb replies at once. “No, I wouldn’t have asked it of you in the first place if I could have avoided it. Gods, I think that after ten years I know enough about your people to guess what it means for you.”

“Robb, I think it’s clear enough that it doesn’t matter anymore. I’ll try not to make you regret it.”

There’s really not much space between them right now. It wouldn’t take much for Robb to close the distance between them.

“I know I won’t,” Robb murmurs as his free hand goes to the back of Theon’s head.

“You can’t be that sure.” Robb thinks about the war, about his bannermen’s disappointed eyes, about the letter, about how sick he felt at the idea of going through with it, and at the same time he’s feeling Theon’s pulse against his fingers where he’s still holding his wrist and he has his answer.

“Yes. Yes, actually I am,” he whispers the moment before their lips touch again.

End.


End file.
